Moonlit Summer
by peoplewillsaywereinlove
Summary: A beautiful rose among thorns called Lannisters; a dangerous hero with Hell as a face. Can this rose grow; will their love survive in the scorching Summer?
1. Chapter 1

Hello readers! This is my new Sansan fanfic that I've been developing for quite a while now. In this story, both Sansa and Sandor are still at Kings Landing;Sansa is still a prisoner of Joffreys. Romance and emotional escape are to follow. Main characters, locations, etc are all property of the genius George R.R. Martin; new characters are mine. Please read and review! If I get enough feedback, Ill update again this week. :)

Enjoy!

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The air was warm against her ivory skin, making her fiery hair dance along with the wind. Her eyes were closed as she envisioned the cold of Winterfell instead of the hot breeze. It was useless, however. She held in her tears, just like most days.

The balcony stood above Kings Landing like a gem above the golden city. Beautiful fauna surrounded the castle, reaching her alcove overlooking the capital. Sansa's favorite roses flourished in her tower. Grand birds made their home in these wondrous plants, singing along until the late hours of the summer days.

Sansa had tried to see the beauty of this place, but she would be reminded of her true surroundings by the tender bruises on her arms and torso. The King would remind her any day if she needed it.

She was no Lady in Kings Landing. Sansa was a prisoner.

Now seventeen years of age, Sansa had long passed her time to marry the King. She could remember the days she would blush at the mere mention of Joffrey, but she had been stupid. That is what she would tell herself now. She had been naïve.

Lady Sansa was no longer of much importance. She was used for the King's entertainment once in the while. The other days, the Lady would serve as a beautiful statue, giving pleasure to the eyes of the court. Other times, Sansa would stay in her tower and find something to pass the long days. Her mind would take her to faraway places; she would soar until finding the winter, finding the place she knew was blood of the wolf.

Yet, this was her life now. Her life was empty.

"Lady Sansa, is everything all right…?", her maid called out to her, standing near Sansa.

The Lady opened her blue eyes, light flickering in her irises. A sigh escaped her mouth.

"Yes. Everything's fine."

Erith, her personal maid, was familiar with that lifeless voice. She left Sansa alone; any more questions were unserviceable.

Loud clanking echoed through the large alcove. Sansa turned around, knowing too well what was coming. It was the king's Knights, the wicked Ser Meryn and the younger knight, Sir Lorthan. They had arrived to accompany her to the King's throne room for the feast's adjustments.

"Lady Sansa."

The knights bowed down respectfully. Sansa stood and nodded curtly. She never forgot her manners.

"The King would like you in the courtroom promptly, my Lady," Sir Lorthan stated. Sir Meryn crossed his arms menacingly.

Sansa never had much choice. She knew there was going to be grand feast tonight, but that was the extent of her knowledge.

She followed the knights through her chamber and down the stone stairs to the large foyer. Her cerulean silk gown trailed down the passage, passing countless of servants and knights. Her lungs took in a deep breath as she entered the bright throne room, taking in the beautiful glass windows. The lively afternoon sun showered in.

Lady Sansa glanced at the ominous figure sitting on the Iron throne, surveying her from the altar. King Joffrey did not have his usual grin on his young face. He seemed annoyed at something unknown.

Her eyes surveyed the Kings surroundings, noticing the large figure to Joffrey's left.

The dark grey eyes stared back, his burn twitching as his mouth curved into a snarl. The King's main unknighted guard, Sandor Clegane, stood like an obedient dog near his master. He stood like a sword, ready to strike on command.

Lady Sansa caught his eye; there it was again. There was not that usual disdain or hate in that grey abyss. She could remember the times Ser Clegane would show kindness towards her.

On occasion, Sansa would relive those moments. It made her feel as if she was not alone. These moments were sparse and trivial, but surreptitiously vital to her.

She stood in front of the King, her heart fluttering in her chest.

"Ah Lady Sansa, what a…pleasant sight", Joffrey stated mockingly. He was growing ever so tired of her presence. If it was not for the Queen, he would have killed her and tossed her body to the streets.

"My King," Sansa proclaimed solemnly. She was never truly ready for the beating.

"Spare me, traitor. I am in need of you at the feast tonight. My agenda was going to be quite entertaining yet…well, anyway, I need you for tonight."

He looked straight at her, his Lannister-red garb moving wickedly.

"Ser Meryn will not be enjoying himself, unfortunately. Nor will I. But do not get your hopes up. I have something quite special planned for another day."

Sansa tried not to shake in her dress, trying to appear strong against this dragon. There was not much strength left in her, however.

The King shifted into a more comfortable position, as his grimace turned into an evil grin.

"I want this feast to be extraordinary. The reason? None. I feel like having quite a long and fun evening, don't you think?"

Sansa nodded briefly once again, looking down unto the stone floor. She was thankful for a break from Joffrey's sadistic activities. Yet, she now had to stand hours for his amusement.

_The guests will not bother to try and converse with me, _Sansa thought to herself. _I was the enemy. That would not change no matter what gown I was dressed in or what I discussed. This would be a long evening._

The King did not notice her sighing. He was too exciting to drink and flirt with the other young girls of the court. He was even more exciting for some deeply vicious jousts that he had in mind.

"The feast will be held in the outer grounds of the castle. You will get ready now. Everyone will see the women I can possess…"

The King ceased talking for a moment in order to peer into Sansa again. His eyes seemed to bore pure malice into soul.

_Be strong, Sansa. Be a wolf. Remember, _Sansa reminded herself.

"And how damn merciful I am with my enemies. I could have killed you a long while ago...but you will be useful to me. I will find a greater way."

Joffrey smiled at himself. The surrounding servants cowered on their feet. Ser Clegane shifted slightly in his stance, more out of annoyance than anything.

"Now, go get prepared. Look your best, oh! And Lady Sansa…"

Sansa lifted her head to meet his malevolent eyes.

"Enjoy the night."

Joffrey's laugh echoed in the throneroom. Sansa's heart sank deeper into hell.

* * *

It was near sunset; the air was growing chillier, while the birds were sound asleep. The last rays of sunlight touched Sansa's delicate cheek.

She looked like a queen tonight. Her long maroon dress dipped seductively in a v-shaped neckline embroidered in burgundy, intricate jewels. Complex curves and flowers adorned the gentle fabric. Her long hair was pulled into a set of braids, while her longer curls flowed down her backside.

Although she was the definition of pure beauty, her eyes shown untainted sorrow.

A knock echoed in her chamber.

_It is time. Breath. Walk, Sansa. That's it. _

"You may enter," Sansa proclaimed, trying to seem in control of her voice.

The large wooden door creaked open, revealing a large figure clad in silver armor. A cloth adorned with the Lannister lion hung on the knight's neck, trailing down behind him heroically. His large muscle tensed beneath the metal. The man's height itself inflicted fear into his enemies.

The burn on his rough face ruined the heroic image, spreading unto half of his face. The gray eye was barely noticeable under the tarred flesh.

His deep, coarse voice, nevertheless, was comforting.

"'Evening, Little Bird."

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Please Read and Review :)


	2. Chapter 2

Hello readers! Thank you to all that have read and reviewed my story. It gives me inspiration to keep on practicing my writing. What better way than to write fanfiction?  
Again, thank you! Enjoy the update.

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Every time he looked upon her, Sansa felt like a child. She felt completely weak in front of the knight; feeling naked and silent, she stood in front of him. Sansa used to fear him, but that was so long ago.  
His dark eyes looked upon her, taking in her full figure. He disguised his astonishment well. Sandor Clegane was used to Sansa's beauty, but this was strangely different. He diverted his eyes quickly from the sinking burgundy neckline on her ivory skin.

She had not been in his presence in weeks; she thought this to herself. The young maiden saw how his armor was dirty and his long cloth that followed behind him was sullied with caked mud hanging on to the threads. He had not shaved in days; hairs covered his broad chin.  
There were no hairs on his scar, however. The black and reddened skin shined on his face, sweat and grease accumulating on his brow. His broad muscular arms crossed on his chest.

His scoff brought her to attention.  
"It's been a hell of a while...my lady."  
The title came out of his mouth with vicious sarcasm, laughing to himself. He smiled his crude grin, making his scar spread across his lower jaw. He approached her slowly; Sansa stayed in her place. All she wanted was to get this night over with. If that meant ridicule from Sandor Clegane, then so be it.

Her eyes glared at him.  
"Aren't you escorting me, Ser Clegane? You might want to follow orders," Sansa replied with as much ferocity as she could muster. This did accomplish anything; Sandor laughed even harder.  
"As you wish, my Lady..."

He turned around slowly; Sansa reluctantly followed.

They passed through the stone hallways in the light of the lanterns, walking past the King's courtroom. There were not many servants in sight; all have been summoned down at the grand feast.  
A small breeze danced through the halls, running up Sansa's spine. How she wished to be in her warm bed, forgetting all this hell.

Sandor did not say a word as he lead her through the old bridge-way over the small creek. It's stone archway reached beyond the Knights stature. A clear sky lay through the arches, a quarter moon shining through. It made the young maiden stop in her steps.

She looked down at her dress, gleaming in the moonlight. Sansa could not suppress a smile. She looked beyond the creek, into the wilderness of thick trees and darkness. The mountains called out to her. What were they saying?

Sandor noticed the silence of her steps behind him. He did not have much patience.  
He turned around around to see a girl glowing with the moonlight, tracing it toward the darkness. She was smiling, something he had not seen her do in years. She seemed to be in her own world.

"Little Bird, you've gone mad. What would the King think?"  
He studied her soft features as the smile disappeared. Her neck was a feast for the Hound's eyes. He looked away.  
"To hell with the King," she responded, her eyes empty, focused on the beauty of the night.

His hand started moving toward; Sandor stopped himself before he could do anything he would have regretted.  
He was not thinking properly.

"Lady Sa-"

"You do not have to tell me twice, Ser. Lead on."

Her eyes were focused on him now. There were no tears.  
...

The feast was set under a thin canopy woven with gold; small lanterns hung from wires on top of the tables, all filled to the edges with plates and delicacies from across the continent. Men clad in rich garments and women adorned with priceless jewels danced in a wonderful drunken stupor. Servants waited on their every whim, while a handsome bard sung beautifully for all to hear. His accompaniment played behind him perfectly, trying to ignore the obnoxious noise of the drunken guests.  
The King stood on his table like a pedestal among the 'peasants'. He was enjoying himself too much, drinking his favorite wine and eating the savory roasted pig. The beautiful Queen Cersei sat beside him, too busy drinking to notice anyone else.

It was a small feast for a select group of the King's favorite (or the ones he did not want to kill just yet.)  
The Hound stood behind the King, looking directly in front of him. He did my diverge his eyes.  
His presence, along with the knights surrounding the area, meant nothing could harm the King. No one would dare.  
Near the corner of the canopy lay a small wooden table, not unlike the rest. Despite its likeness, it was put aside from the guests. Sansa Stark sat at this select table, surrounded by her maids. The King had purposely put her away from the crowd; a traitor should not dine with the faithful. She had not touched her food, and her wine stood intact. Her head was somewhere else.  
Her countenance took upon a look of dread, as the stares and the jeers increased in volume. She tried to be strong against the taunts, but it had been a long night. She had sat there for hours, her bodice tugging at her ribs, the summer night making her curls stick to her neck. She had done what she had been told; why couldn't they just leave her alone?  
The King had noticed her fear, and stood to see her more clearly. His small grin was something to be feared.  
He raised his hands to crowd; slowly but surely the guest stopped their conversations and jests. They knew better than to anger King Joffrey in any way.

"It seems this night has been a successful one, has it not?"

The crowd lifted their goblets of wine into the air, the lanterns illuminating the wine in the golden cups. They knew when to be gracious, also.

"Perfect. But...low and behold! There is one little traitor that is not enjoying herself. Now, Lady Sansa...why is that?"

His eyes focused on the young maiden in the corner. Her heart stopped when the entire crowd stared at her, some even laughing. The sweat on her neck dripped down her back.

At this moment, Sansa wished she could have disappeared into the darkness. Any place but here.

"Oh but don't you worry, my Lady. I have a little surprise for you, from your King to his favorite Lady", he stated sarcastically.

He clapped his hands once; a strange quietness had overtaken the guests.

Moments later, four servants walked through the main entrance into the canopy; above their heads was a large wooden plank. Their hands carried a strange object into the center of the space, gasps echoing through the feast. They arrived in front of Sansa, and set the object on the ground.

"I do hope you'll enjoy my gift. I thought of you."  
Sansa broke her eye contact with the King to look upon her "gift".

A large dog had been stabbed countless times to death, placed upon a ragged Winterfell cloak; the dog was not a dire-wolf, but that did not matter.

It looked liked Sansa's own wolf, Lady.

Her heart had dropped into her stomach. Her hands had grown numb, as her bones seemed to become gelatin. Sansa tried to open her mouth but she could not even breath properly.  
She could not think. Her blue eyes had become a tremendous cerulean, as her mind decided to speak for her.

"Thank you, My King. This reminds me of my treacherous family, and reminds me to become a better Lady for you. I am forever thankful."

She bowed her head, and did not speak again.

The King could not hide his anger and disappointment. His plan to break the maiden had backfired, and in front of countless women and men of the court. Discretion was not one of Joffrey's assets.

"Hound, get her out of my sight! All of you, dance! I want you dancing until I say so. Where is the music? I will not allow a traitorous wretch ruin my feast. I said, Where is the music?!"

The music began instantly and the guests went back to their "enjoyment", anything to avoid the The Kings wrath.

The Hound was at Sansa's side in seconds. The lady had gotten up gently, and was ready to be escorted.

She took one last look upon the rotting dog in front of her.

Her eyes were burning like fire. But she would not cry in front of the enemy. She would wait.

Patience would win.

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Please R&R. :)


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